


home, it is so far away

by a_mind_at_work (Madame_Marauder)



Series: this whole damn city [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Background Character Death, Gen, Henry isn't good but he makes a very small attempt, Oof there's emotions, Other, Running Away, backstories for this verse, heavily inspired by M A N I A, lots of discussion on family, one cobbled-together good family, one fairly not great blood family, the Purple Squad are beautiful and I love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Marauder/pseuds/a_mind_at_work
Summary: every bird must leave the nest to fly.or, a beginning, of sorts.





	1. give me a boost over heaven's gate

   “Mare, I'm not fucking leaving you!”

    “Like hell you're not,” she snaps, chin tilted high. She's drawn up to her full height, and that way they're eye-to-eye. “You're getting in that damn capsule and getting out of this shithole. Between the two of us, you're the one who's going to be able to make a life up there. We both know that.”

     Alex stares down at her, at this firebrand of a girl who's too similar to him for her own good. “Mary, I'm not going to just fly off to Blue and be happy when everyone else is stuck here. I'm just going to miss you all, I'm not-”

     “Good, then you'll have reason to start affecting some change, or at least start some system for people running Up to use to settle in,” Mary declares, one hand planted on her hip as she dangles a datastick in front of him. “Alex, this is everything you've ever wanted. Right here. Don't throw it away because you're worried about me. I've got Jamie and James and Ann and Nick to look out for, and to look out for me. I'll be fine.”

       He still stands frozen, hesitating. His best friend smiles and takes his hand, placing the datastick in his palm and curling his fingers around it. “I can't just abandon you all,” he protests.

       “Listen to me, Alexander,” Mary says firmly, eyes bright and determined. “You are not your blood-father. You are not abandoning us. We are sending you to a different location to be in a position more advantageous to you, with trickle-down benefits to us. Alright?”

       It takes another moment for him to tighten his grip on what will be his future, but he does, and then pulls her into a hug. “You're the best sister I could ever have had.”

       He can feel her start, but then she flings her arms around him as well and squeezes. “You have no idea what that means to me. Brother.”

       Alex huffs out a laugh, and lets her tug him out into the other room. Ann and Jamie are waiting, Nick and James breaking off their conversation as he walks in the room. He can feel the tears on his cheeks, and the grin so wide it hurts, and they all beam right back at him. “Guys,” he manages hoarsely, “I- I don't know what to say.”

       Mary squeezes his hand, and James opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched piping voice.

       “I'm gonna miss youuuuuu!” Jamie declares, flinging himself at Alex’s legs. He catches the younger boy and echoes the same back at him. The adults each pull him into a hug of their own, Nick patting his shoulder, his blood-brother ruffling his already messy hair, Ann smiling at him tearfully.

        “Your mother would be so happy for you,” she tells him softly, and produces a small green datastick on a sturdy cord. “For when you need encouragement. There's something from each of us on there, and a recording your mother wanted you to have when you turned eighteen. I think she'd be alright with you getting it a year early, in this case.”

        She loops it over his head, and his hand goes up to cover it reverently. His mother's best friend drops a kiss on his forehead, and his sister hugs him again, and his blood-brother pats him on the back, and then Jamie is handing him a bag that someone- certainly Mary- had packed, and he and Nick are hurrying to catch the scheduled capsule.

         “My friend's waiting for you there,” Nick reassures him at the gate, his hand heavy on the seventeen-year-old’s shoulder. “Hugh Knox. You've met him.”

          Alex nods, scraping the corners of his memory for details of a visit that had been the year of his mother's death. “I- thank you,” he manages to stutter out. His mentor smiles, and gently nudges him towards the capsule. “Keep them safe?” he asks, stepping back towards the pod.

          “I'll do my best,” Nick promises. Alex accepts it as the best either of them can get, and runs to the capsule, tapping the datastick against the scanner and stepping inside. Nick waves, and Mary does the same from the edge of the crowd, and James does as well, Jamie on his shoulders. The door slides shut, and then he's rising up, off to the rest of his life.

          He pats the memory stick around his neck and tries to breathe, and closes his eyes as the air quality shifts and the glow around him leaves behind the lavender he's known all his life to become a rich, violent blue.

          He's not throwing away this shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy look whats here. History.
> 
> (For clarification, if needed:  
> Ann is Ann Lytton, Alex's older cousin and one of the main benefactors involved in sending him to the colonies. Nick is Nicholas Cruger, Alex's boss on the islands. Mary is Maria Reynolds, before she changed her name. James is, obviously, Alex's brother.)
> 
> My main Tumblr: @discount-satan  
> My writing Tumblr: @littlelionroar
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!!


	2. some princes don't become kings

       He throws a fist into the wall, then another, and another, and then there's a slight indentation and what will become bruises blossoming on his knuckles.

       Good.

       John smashes his hand into the wall again and again, until the drywall buckles and he’s bleeding freely. Silent repetitions of  _ she's gone, she's gone, she's gone _ give him a steady tempo, but the chant doesn't stop even when there's blood smeared on the delicate yellow wallpaper.  _ She's gone, she's gone, she's gone, and it's your fault. _

       If Mattie were here, she'd slap him upside the head for saying that and drag him to her sitting room so she can bandage his hand. But she's not here, because she's dead, because he hadn't gotten there in time to throw his father's weight around and stop it from happening.

       He lets out a quiet whimper and slides down the wall, not bothering to stop his bleeding hand from dripping on the floor, or his clothes, or his shoes. He just curls up and cries for the girl who might as well have been his sister, the only person with a secret to match his, the one who he cared most about and who cared for him in return. 

       They had been planning to marry.

       He still has the rings in his dresser. Their parents would have approved. They could have covered for each other.

       Of course, that was before she was caught and executed for being a revolutionary. A crime that he, by all rights, should have died for right alongside her. John still isn't sure how Mattie got caught before him; he's always spoken too openly.

       “Is this about Miss Manning?” his father asks quietly, stepping into the hall. John can feel the disapproval radiating off of him as he takes in the teartracks on his face and the blood on his knuckles.

      But thankfully, he doesn't have to try to lie. He's a terrible liar. Horrible. “We planned to marry, Father. We loved each other.” Like siblings, but he doesn't add that.

      Henry Laurens instantly lets his glare soften, sharp enough to still not approve but gentle enough that John no longer wants to repeat the process of what he did to the wall. “Ah. I see. Son, I understand how it hurts, but it's for the best.”

      Nevermind, he still wants to deck the man.

      “She was inciting treason, John,” Henry says reasonably. “And it's for the best that she was stopped. At least it was quick, if that's any comfort to you.”

      Awfully enough, it is. “I know.”

      His father exhales and leans against the wall. “I feel so sorry for her family.” No, he doesn't. “They'll surely be investigated. Her friends, too. I don't think we parents could bear it if another bright young mind was lost to this nonsense.”

      And that's a surprisingly kind warning, for Henry Laurens.  _ If you were involved in this, destroy the evidence, and cut ties, or you will face the consequences.  _ But this is the one thing that John can believe in fully, the only thing in the world that he knows with his entire being is the right thing.

      He hopes Junior will forgive him for what he's about to do. “Of course, Father,” John manages, and pushes himself to his feet, however shakily. “But for the moment, I will let myself mourn. We tend to be blind to the faults of those we love.”

      “That we are,” Henry replies, and John can feel his eyes boring into his back as he makes his way down the hall and up the stairs, feet carrying him on autopilot to his room and locking the door.

      His heart is racing, now, but he curls his hands into fists and feels his broken skin protest in response. Blood pounds in his ears as he double checks his lock, and pulls over a chair to wedge under the knob. And John does hesitate, for a moment. This is all he's ever known, his entire world, is he really going to throw it all away over an impossible dream?

      Yes, he decides. Yes, yes, he is.

     It's two steps to the closet to fetch a sturdy and nondescript bag, a turn to the wardrobe for a change of clothes. Kneeling, he takes out the false bottom of the wardrobe and pulls out all the pamphlets and datacards and money and the projector-tablet that he's hidden down there, the unity patch that he's not dared attach to anything yet, the pins and the ribbon.

      Looking down at the empty bag, he peels off the backing and adheres it to the inside of the back. Then he tucks the pamphlets and datacards into the protective case for the tablet, and slips that  into the pack at his side. The tiny visible hints of rebellion are concealed in a small toiletry bag, with hairties and deodorant and such. One set of clothes goes in the bag; he changes into a fresh one, unstained with blood or tears.

      He has a list. This has been planned for years now- but then he'd always been running to Mattie. Now, instead, he's reached his true last resort.

      Glancing around the room, John impulsively grabs the medicine holoslides and adds them to the pack, and his hand lingers over the only physical photo he has. It's of long before the Fall, of a creature that used to roam great bodies of water. They used to call it a sea turtle. After a moment of hesitation, he takes it with. 

       Bandages go in the left side pocket of the bag, a sewing kit and disinfectant in the right. The turtle photograph is hidden away with the tablet. The datastick with pictures of his mother and siblings and Mattie join it, and then it's just an empty room. Not of furniture, obviously, but of meaning.

      His earpiece he's already debugged, and he pulls up its screen with shaking hands. He can't stay in Yellow, that much is clear. He'd be too easily found. Hopefully Mulligan won't mind letting him crash at his place for a while down on Green.

      There's nothing left for him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this is a verse now, thnks M A N I A. Let's see where this goes, I guess. My bet is down, down, in an earlier round.
> 
> (Mattie is Martha Manning, John's friend/eventual wife.)
> 
> My main Tumblr: @discount-satan  
> My writing Tumblr (feat moodboards for this verse): @littlelionroar
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look what it is


End file.
